Prelude to Life
by plasticphoenix
Summary: A look into a pregnant Angelica's life; a prequel to Some Call it Life. (Part of the Life Universe)


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Prelude to Life 

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Author Notes: Because I'm bored and it's raining. That and you guys are addictive to my fictional world. *laughs wickedly* Or so I wish you were. I have such dreams of greatness. But like I said I'm bored. Please ignore my bad grammar and spelling mistakes. This is fanfiction, cut me so slack. #_#; Space Key: ~**~ this equals flashback in the fic. ----- this equals something from one of her columns. Two of each will either surround the flashback or the column.

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Life Universe: This story is part of the Life Universe. Which mean it follows the plot line of _Some Call it Life_. This story is a prequel to SCiL. It could turn into a tie-in or whatever the correct term would be. At the moment it is a prequel. Meaning it comes _before_ so Cheyenne has yet to be born. Currently as I'm writing this is the third story in my little world. _Scenes from Here _also fits into this world, events from that story are mention in this. That should explain everything...

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Copyrights: Honestly, is this even necessary anymore? Yes? *sighs* I don't own anything but the characters in which I and the voices upstairs create. 

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Life is difficult. There are many curves, bumps, potholes, and dumb deer in the middle of the damn road on the road of life. Or so she wrote. She was a writer. That's what she did. She wrote. She wrote nouns, adjectives, and replaced dull words with the word processors built in thesaurus. 

She was a writer. She was blonde. She was twenty-four. She was attractive. She was quick. She was cleaver. She was pregnant. She, however, was not married. 

She had writer's block. She hated writer's block. Almost as much as she hated dead lines. There was cartoons playing in the background. 

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One can never outgrow the comforter of aging cartoons. Familiar faces that taught us, played with us, and loved us without ever leaving the electronic square object that occupies so many rooms in our houses today. As adults we might find it childish, immature, and very likely embarrassing to continue watching these animated shows. It becomes a dirty little secret we try to keep buried. Like keeping ratty but favorite underwear that we can't bare to throw away but hide from our lover's eyes. But if they comfort us so much during our adolescents, if these cartoons meant so much to us when we were kids, why do we abandon them when we really need them the most. Think about. Which would give you more pleasure, a rerun of Dummi Bears or CSPAN? Kids need cartoons to grow. We need to cartoons to keeping us sane.

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She had written that too. Not today. Today she had writer's block.

Today all she could write about was dumb deer in the middle of the damn road. 

The baby kicked. 

She smiled.

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Today I meet a miracle. Her name is Grace Sumi DeVille. She was born at three am, Saturday morning to two of my dearest childhood friends. I want to say her eyes are brown but maybe brown isn't the correct word to use. Simply saying brown is not sufficient enough to describe this baby's eyes. Grace's eyes are deep pools of amber that reflect the world in wonder and when I looked into them today, I knew they held the secrets of life. I believe the wonderment of all life is hidden behind the dark lashes. If only we could decipher it we might be closer to God.

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She wrote that too, a little over two years ago.

Grace Sumi Deville was now a year old. Her birthday had been celebrated the same day her mother's restaurant opened. 

~**~

"We decided to name our restaurant Daughter Grace in honor of our daughter, Grace," Kimi had told the reporters, smiling with such joy. 

"My husband has helped me reach so many of my dreams. He married me, gave this perfect child, and now he help me achieve this one too," Kimi told the men in neck ties and the women with their ruby red lip stick. 

~**~

The opening of Daughter Grace, a restaurant/night club, and Grace's second birthday had taken place four months ago. That had been the night she announced she was pregnant. Three months actually. She was just now starting to show. That was the night she made the formal announcements at least. She had already shared the news with her parents, the father of the child, and a close friend that still wore glasses even after all these years.

~**~

"I propose a toast to Kimi," she said while raising her glass of coke "she came into our lives from the city of love, and then she became a Finster. Whom we all grew to love." 

"Here, Here," cried her family and friends.

"Then she ran away and eloped in Memphis; then her name became DeVille."

"Here, Here." They cried in union.

"Then do to a lack of creativity or brain damage on her husband's part their daughter was named after the King's humble home." 

"Here, Here." They cheered again, laughing in between.

"She's a loving daughter, a caring sister, a loyal friend, a devoted wife, and a wonderful mother."

"Here, Here." They said again.

"I can only hope I can be as good as a mother to the child I'm carrying as you are to Grace," she said to Kimi, finishing her toast. She still wasn't sure if they look on her family and friends' faces had been ones of pure shock or totally surprise.

~**~

"Bored, baby girl?" she asked the unborn child that was sheltered in her womb. She had yet to pick a name for her daughter. Nothing seemed right. 

"The right name will just smack you in the face." Her mother had said over brunch three months ago. So far nothing was smacking her in the face other then a dead line. If she didn't get these column wrote her editor might do the same.

"What name would you like, princess?" she asked the child.

"Amber?"

"Courtney?"

"Isabella?"

The child didn't answer. Which wasn't surprising. 

"You're no help at all," she said to her belly. 

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Have you ever been to one of the name analyzers on the net? Type in your name and it will tell you what kind of person you are and determine what your life will be just by your name. Odd, isn't it? My whole life and persona will be determined by what my parents named me. What if my name was Bob? Does that mean I'm screwed? Why do we buy into this crap? Are we a gullible nation or just bored? There are too many good shows on the TV to waste my time worrying about what my horoscope turned out to be in the back of a fashion magazine. I'm sure some station is playing I Love Lucy. Curl up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and watch a rerun. Life was made for sitcom reruns. Stop worrying about these things. Nothing can decide what kind of person you are but you. Not the stars, numbers, fortune cookies, or your name.

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She wrote that for her column as well. Kelly Taylor, the woman who wrote the horoscope for the newspaper's Sunday edition hadn't been too happy with it. 

~**~

"Everything is in the stars." Kelly has said, glaring at her over her own cubicle.

"Where you by any chance dropped on your head during infancy?" She had retorted. 

~**~

She would not live her life by the stars or by anyone else's. The only people she had to answer to were God and herself.

"Maybe I should just write about writer's block," she mental suggested to herself.

She began to write on her laptop - "Is there anything worse then writer's block?"- but quickly erased it. 

"I like the dumb deer better." 

It was then that the phone rang. She growled. She assumed it was her mother wanting to discuss the baby shower again. How hard was it to plan a shower in the first place? Send some invitations, buy a cake, and blow up some balloons. It wasn't brain surgery. What did she care what color scheme there was? Lilac or Lavender? She had more important things to worry about. Like the column that still loomed blankly at her from the word processor. 

"Here's a topic I'm sure the boss will love. Life sucks. Get use to it. That will have the readers jumping with joy and glowing with glee," she said as she reached for the phone.

"Hello, Angelica speaking," she said into the receiver, but stared evilly at her keyboard.

"Hi."

She smiled again for reasons she was still unsure of. Surely a simple phone call from a friend she saw practically everyday for twenty-some years shouldn't make someone this happy. But it did and she really didn't care to understand why.

"I thought you had to work today," she said in a very causal way.

"I did. But I took half the day off," he said in reply.

"You're so lazy, Finster." 

"Am not," he said in his defense although he was laughing over the line. 

"Lazier then me," she sang.

"Didn't think country was your thing," he said, still laughing.

"I out grew pop music by the time I got to college," she said, laughing herself.

This felt good. This friendly chitchat. Better then working or staring at blank screen. 

So she turned off the laptop and spun her chair around the opposite way. Occasionally spinning herself around and around. 

"You working hard?" he asked.

"Nope," she replied.

"Busy?" he asked. 

"Nope," she replied again.

"Wanna get something to eat or catch a movie?" he asked.

"Finster, are you asking me out?" she teased.

He coughed and stumbled over his word, "Umm...well...if...that's...what...you...call...it..."

She laughed and her smile grew larger, "Give me a half-hour."

"It will take me about that long to get to your apartment," he said. Maybe it was just her imagination but he sounded like he was smiling too.

"See you in a bit," he said.

"If you don't get lost again," she teased.

"Bite me," he replied.

"That's not nice," she laughed.

"Bye Angelica."

"Bye Chuck." 

"Hey, Chuckie?" she said and luckily caught him before he hung up.

"Yeah?"

"No foreign films," she said.

"Deal," he said and then hung up. 

She replaced the cordless phone back on her desk and began looking for a pair of shoes that wouldn't kill her feet. As for her column, she decided her editor would just have to wait. 

She had a date. Or something like one.

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Ending AN: Bwahahahaha! I tortured you with crappy columns and lame dialogue. I detest dialogue because I suck at dialogue. o_0; But blah to all that. Things I feel the need to discuss are more important. 

Angie in my world writes one of those editorial columns, the type where you can write whatever you want to. I could have made her a Dear Abby sort in the working world like she did in middle school but her advice was horrible. The girl likes to talk so I let her talk. Lets pretend its real popular. Angie is 24 in this fic as she has Cheyenne when she is 24. *my math is correct for once* Kimi has Grace at 21. For those that didn't read SCiL, the father of Angelica's baby split *stupid cowards*. Any complaints about my non-belief in horoscope and etc. will be deleted from reviews and earn you a hard smack. I do not "dig" such types of "entertainment". Since this is my fanfic I'm allowed to write my opinion off on the characters as long as I don't go out of character. So :p I'm not sure if this will remain a one shot or not. Depends on what the readers want and if I can do anything else with it. Peace and Love!


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